


FlexSeal Me Away In A World Of Our Own Making

by TheSwampWitch



Category: FlexSeal, FlexTape, Super Mario & Related Fandoms, the bee movie
Genre: Bees, Canon Divergence, College AU, F/F, F/M, Fear them, Geese, Gen, I haven't decided whether he's actually dead or not, I welcome all your combined hatred, M/M, Multi, Other, college reunion au, crossover fic, for it makes me stronger, he never shows up but I know it might matter to you guys, it wasn't very cash money of me to write this either, someone please find matt, this is why i can't have nice things, yeet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 02:43:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16109126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSwampWitch/pseuds/TheSwampWitch
Summary: So, you know that movie with the bees that's an allegory for the exploitation of the working class under our current system? Yeah, the one bee with the alliterative name and the guy from the FlexSeal commercials are in this. So, yeah. Read it and question up to 79% of your current life choices.





	1. In Which One Is Given Some Kind Of Background Information Before Being Most Unkindly Thrust Into Whatever This May Be

May 30, 2013:  
It was sunny outside for the first time in two weeks, and the sun seemed  
to be making up for the time it lost. The grass, overgrown and still damp, clung to itself and to people’s ankles. Overall, it wasn’t the worst day one could pick for a graduation, but it still wasn’t good. Phil Swift could almost feel himself melting in his thick, woolen robe, surrounded by the people who had been his companions for the past four years. Several seats to his left sat Barry B. Benson: his best—and pretty much only—friend, his favorite trivia partner, and a literal bee.

He noticed Barry scribbling something on a napkin, and his face paled.  
Barry was a self-described agent of chaos, and Phil had heard stories from people who lost bets with Barry.  
Sydney Billings had doomed themselves to end every sentence they  
spoke with “And so Barry B. Benson wills it” for a week. Marco McLain ended up singing “It’s Not Unusual” outside his advisor’s door for an hour. The aforementioned professor, in turn, found herself fleeing from geese with the head of the math department after asking her on “a date she’d never forget.” No fewer than fourteen people had signed away their souls. The list continued, and such was the way with Barry B. Benson. Phil suspected it was, at last, his turn. Time seemed to slow as the carefully folded napkin made its way to him. 

Dazed, he read the message that might spell his end. “Have a significant  
other with you at our five-year reunion or face my scheming hand,” was all it said. Barry—the bee, the myth, the legend, quite possibly the actual Devil—was never this straightforward. Phil looked over at him for confirmation. Barry nodded sagely.

Phil Swift was certain he would be the first person in recorded history—as far as he knew, anyway—to win a bet with Barry B. Benson.

=============


	2. In Which Phil Swift Sits In His Room And Learns That His Actions Have Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Impenetrable sealants can't save you now, my dude.

There were six days until the reunion. Six days to start dating someone.   
Six days until Phil Swift was neatly wrapped up and delivered to Satan’s apian hands. Though the napkin on which they were written was lost years ago, most likely reclaimed secretly by Barry himself, those accursèd words still loomed at the back of the Phil’s mind.   
None of his relationships since graduation had lasted longer than a   
month. Josh had moved across the country, and a long-distance relationship hadn’t worked out. Liz let him down gently after two weeks, saying that they just didn’t have the chemistry to stay together in the long-term. Matt was missing and presumed dead. Phil was beginning to suspect that Barry had cursed him.  
Of course, there was still the hope that Barry had forgotten about the   
bet. After all, it was significantly easier to remember something when it was your world that it could end as you knew it. As if in answer to that thought, the Phil’s phone buzzed. “And, you know, Phil,” read the message, “If I don’t have someone with me in six days, you decide what happens to me.”  
His eyes widened. He didn’t care about any reward now; he just had to   
make some scramble for a chance at victory and, by extension, his continued existence. “You’re on, Stripey Satan,” he said over text.  
“I welcome death,” he said aloud.

=============

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're still here. Why and how.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize profusely for any lasting harm this may have caused. However, if you actively decided to continue reading this, you most likely deserved anything that happened to you.
> 
> Also, this is dedicated to the memory of Lyle Jumping, the man who, in 1807, accidentally invented jumping when he tried to run twice at one time.


End file.
